A candle in the wind

A CANDLE IN THE WIND
BY MARY IMLAY TAYLOR Author of “The Impersonator,” “The Reaping,” “Caleb Trench,” “The Man in the Street,” etc.
NEW YORK MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 1919
Copyright, 1919, by MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY
A CANDLE IN THE WIND
A CANDLE IN THE WIND
Diane controlled the secret distress which the mere mention of Overton’s name made immeasurably keen, and tried to give her undivided attention to the entertainment of her father’s guests. She had a fine discrimination in social matters, and she felt that this occasion, however simple and domestic, was made important by the presence of Arthur Faunce, the young hero of the recent antarctic expedition.
Faunce had not been expected at Mapleton so soon after his triumphant reception in New York, where, exalted into prominence by Overton’s tragic death, he had been hailed as the leading survivor of the brave band of explorers. But, with that infatuated zeal with which the moth seeks the candle, he had returned almost immediately to the place where he was sure to feel the radiant flame of Diane Herford’s charm.
However well aware she may have been in the past of the young man’s incipient infatuation, Diane had almost forgotten those early passages in their lives when she had made a conquest of a college boy’s heart at a time when, with the sublime optimism of youth, he had worn it joyously upon his sleeve. Since then several years had intervened, rich in experience. Diane had traveled a good deal with her father, and had been received, both at home and abroad, with flattering attention. She had felt the force of a deeper emotion, suffered the actual pang of bereavement, seen a hope, beautiful and thrilled with an exquisite tenderness, lost forever with the gallant hero who had perished almost within sight of the goal that he had sought with such courage and such devotion.
That he had not spoken more definitely at parting, that their understanding was tacit rather than actual, only deepened her grief by depriving her of the right to indulge it. Since she was thus denied the privilege of openly mourning the loss of Overton, and must force herself to speak of him and to hear his death discussed with apparent composure, Diane was listening now to the becoming modesty with which Arthur Faunce was quietly assuming the dead man’s mantle.